


Silverling

by EmmyJay



Series: Ivory Ascending [6]
Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Dehumanization, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugging, F/M, Implied/Referenced Genocide, Scratching, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22266022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyJay/pseuds/EmmyJay
Summary: The Emperor's perspective on the events ofPorcelain.
Relationships: Seladon/skekSo (Dark Crystal)
Series: Ivory Ascending [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528451
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Silverling

**Author's Note:**

> Jumping back in the storyline a bit to toss some more of skekSo's awful POV into things.
> 
> Additionally, as you may have noticed, I've decided to start locking the explicit installments of this story (so this and 'Porcelain') to registered users only. This is an attempt to protect myself from some of the anti backlash I've seen creeping in on Tumblr and the like (none directed specifically at me, but enough to make me nervous). I apologise for any inconvenience.

Rutting the Gelfling was every bit as delicious as skekSo had imagined.

It was clear to him now that his difficulty the last time had been nothing more than a fluke. The Gelfling had been too pathetic, too pitiful, too overcome by the undiluted Essence; he may as well have attempted to mount her corpse. No, it was better to have her aware, however amusing her helplessness had been at the time.

Though while her portion had indeed been diluted, the Essence skekSo had swallowed was pure, taken from among the hardiest stock of Stonewood warriors (or so skekTek claimed). There was a virility to the taste he found most enjoyable, bringing such a renewed vigour to his body that he had scarcely been able to contain himself.

And the Essence had come in handy in other ways as well—the last dregs of it had worked admirably in easing his entry to the Gelfling's body, incapable as she had been of accommodating him otherwise. She'd been dry as an old bone, and even now she clenched tightly around him; so small that he had barely been able to fit one of his cocks inside of her, much less try for all three, or even for two.

Still, her body had at last begun to produce some slickness, though he imagined by no will of her own. It eased the friction of him inside her, allowing him to press harder and deeper with every thrust. The Gelfling made a choked sound of distress when he did so, but he paid her no mind; this was not for her pleasure, after all.

Had she been untouched before this? He knew she was unbound; was her clan one of those who guarded their chastity like jewels between their legs until the culmination of some frivolous ceremony? Or were they the sort who crawled from one bed into another with reckless abandon, breeding like crawlies in the castle dungeons? The differences between clans were all so superficial, skekSo had never bothered to keep track of them all. Perhaps the skekOk would have more information on the subject, if he decided he cared enough to ask.

Another cry below him, this one tinged with something other than pain, and he looked down to see the Gelfling writhing, caught in the grips of one of those episodes the Essence seemed to bring out in her. Her hair was scattered across her back, shining streaks of silver dripping between her wings, glinting in the light. So lovely a colour, like the glimmer of Essence in a vial. It had entranced skekSo the moment he saw it, filled him with a need to feel it between his talons, to revel in the softness no Skeksis possessed even in their younger days. He gathered the strands in a fist, bringing them to his beak and inhaling deeply. He could not smell her, of course—he had not smelled anything in some time—but he could imagine. No doubt something like smelted silver, combined with the frigid night air in winter, undercut with the current of something floral and sweet.

Or at least, she _would_ have smelled that way, when she first arrived so long ago. _'Now she probably smells like Skeksis,'_ he thought, and laughed raggedly to himself.

He cast her hair aside, and bent instead to lock his teeth around her nape as he had before, groaning low and content at the rush of power it filled him with, as he in turn filled her again and again. The Gelfling tried to speak, perhaps to beg for mercy; he cared not. He dug talons into her hips and began pulling her back to meet him, plumbing her deepest with every thrust, listening to her shriek and wail in time with his movements.

_'Mine,'_ he thought madly, picturing her neck snapping in his jaws. _'My victory, my prize, my **right**—"_

He spilled inside her with a guttural moan, hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself. The Essence singing in his veins, and the remnants of it lingering on his cock, drove his release to new heights, an ecstasy he could never have thought imaginable—a level of pleasure never before experienced by Skeksis, by any creature known or unknown.

And then it broke over him like a wave, sending him crashing into the abyss with its loss.

He collapsed on top of the Gelfling, earning another weak cry when his full weight landed on her. His body shook with the effort of simply lying there, breath coming in ragged gasps he could thankfully disguise as ordinary exhaustion. But he had never felt so utterly drained by a simple roll before. No, this was more akin to how he felt after a session spent harnessing the Darkening: a complete draining of his physical and mental state that sank deep into his bones.

With great effort skekSo pushed himself from the bed, hearing the Gelfling exhale in relief. It would not do for her to witness him in this state—he did not dare allow her to behold him in any way she might perceive as weakness, not so long as she kept company with skekSil. He enjoyed having her here to entertain him; it would be a great disappointment if she were to force him to kill her.

"I have matters to attend to," he addressed her as he rose, straightening his robes to cover himself. "You may remain here, if you wish, or else the Podlings will see you back to your own chamber." Though considering the blood he saw seeping out of her alongside his spill, such a retreat might prove difficult.

The sight of how thoroughly he had ravished her brought skekSo a swelling of pride, enough that he lingered over her a moment longer. He even offered rare words of praise for how she had taken him, though the ungrateful wretch merely pressed herself further into the bedding as though she might escape that way, fragile body trembling with repressed sobs.

_'Pathetic,'_ he thought as he stumbled from the room. _'A weak creature that exists only to be taken by those who are stronger.'_

Every step across the antechamber felt as though he were dragging one of skekSa's great metal anchors from each leg, and when he finally reached the door he sought he had to slump there, clutching the handle to keep himself upright. Behind him the slaves went quiet, pausing in their work to stare; he turned his head enough to snarl wordlessly at them, and the resulting yelps of fear were enough to quell some of his frustration.

This room he entered had once been where he would conduct important business: meeting with dignitaries, hearing reports, planning for Thra's future. Now, however, the space was unused, all of those tasks overseen instead from atop his throne—lording above all those below him, where he _belonged_. It had been many trine since skekSo had last set foot in this room, and all of its surfaces and furniture were covered in a layer of dust. A plume of it rose around him when he sat, falling to settle on his feet, and on his face, and in his lungs; he struggled to suppress a hacking cough, attempts to regain his breath all the more hindered.

In the antechamber beyond he heard the sound of a door opening, followed by the padding of Gelfling feet rushing across he floor. Another door, and then silence; she had left, it seemed, in some hurry. No doubt frightened of his return, that he might change his mind and come back for another fill of her. And once, in another life, he would have.

Curse the Gelfling, for denying him his due. If not for that one escaped traitor, they might all be herded into the dungeons by now, drained to their last drop to sustain himself and his brethren. Instead they were forced to make do with what they had, a supply which dwindled in volume as much as in quality. That first drink of Essence (_Mira_, he recalled its name) had stayed in skekSo for days, filling him with all the vigor of his youth. Yet now the effects were fleeting, easily chased away by strain, even as his consumption increased with each serving. It seemed the more he took, the quicker its effects faded; and skekTek had, thus far, been next to useless in resolving the issue.

_'We need better quality to drain,'_ he thought foully. _'What's left to us now are only the most pathetic of Gelfling; the runts of the herd to provide a poor harvest until better stock can be obtained.'_

Not that he had long to wait, of course. Even as he lounged in this long-obsoleted seat, skekVar would be marching on the Sog. The Drenchen were a sturdy, though stupid, people; the strength of their bodies, if not their minds, would surely provide a potent Essence. He had to give skekSil credit—the All-Maudra had indeed chosen their next target well.

_'And she'll choose more soon enough.'_ One by one, the seven clans would all be siphoned into their cups. He would swallow them all, as many as needed to provide him with the eternity he sought. As was his purpose; as was his **right**.

"I will have immortality," he promised to no one. "I will never be dust."

The room answered only in silence.


End file.
